


I Will Fight this War with All my Bones

by orphan_account



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Consent Issues, Control, Discussion, F/M, Lil Cal - Freeform, M/M, discussion of consent, moon AU
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-04-10
Updated: 2016-04-10
Packaged: 2018-06-01 07:34:10
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,634
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6508780
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account





	I Will Fight this War with All my Bones

**Author's Note:**

  * For [spockandawe](https://archiveofourown.org/users/spockandawe/gifts).



The pulse of your bulge is quiet and slow inside of the vice-tight clutch of your lover. Today you have him folded up and under you. Having a head and a half of height difference between you, not counting your horns, positioning has been a fun puzzle that you solve in a new way each time the two of you get to pailing. It’s never a perfect compromise. His body is too tight to fit the whole of your bulge. His muscles contract so tight that it aches. The way that you fit into him never quite is enough to tip you into orgasm, but the way that you brush along his insides has him shuddering without significant effort.

This is a little irritating on days that you want to string him along. He is so contrary that it seems fair that he work for his pleasures rather than taking them and offering sass in return.

You can feel the rise and fall of his ribs as he breathes through the gentle undulations you are performing. His back is slick-and fever hot and his forearms are stretched out in front of him, palms pressed against the floor. You aren’t sure if he is trying to hold himself in place or if he is reaching out for a hand to hold. It is hard to tell with him. Humans are puzzling, but Bro in particularly is quizzical.

Both of you are strong - he is a lot stronger than you would given an alien credit for being! Strong as he may be, you are an adult-height Alternian female. You do not choose to appear as you did later in your life often, instead opting for the way that you were before they murdered Kankri. The two of you match like that -- eternal adolescents just discovering the horror of the establishment pushing back against change.

The prickle of his hair brushes along your throat and you purr at him, feeling his back flex in response to the vibration. The angle that you two are at makes it hard for you to touch his strangely rigid bulge, but he seems just as happy that you leave him be.

Smoothing your palms slowly along the topography of his forearms you slot your fingers in through his and feel his curl tight, trapping your claws against his palms. You frown a little, hips pausing. He is very cavalier about his body and damage to it. It seems that in this place you cannot be hurt in a lasting fashion, but you do not care to be the instrument of his pain.

Particularly pain that you did not willingly offer him. Instead you flex your fingers straight and he holds without trying to adjust your grip. Just wanting a hand then. Nipping at his shoulders you twist your bulge in a little curl, mimicking a spiral inside of the punishing tightness of his body. When he whimpers he is not alone.

When he comes there is answering slickness along your thighs. Carefully pulling yourself out of him you watch him laying on his stomach, huffing softly and peering at you from the edge of his glasses. Tonight it seemed kinder to let him keep them on.

“You all done?”

He bats at you slightly, a slight tremble in his hands and red-flush splashed violently up along his neck and chest. Overheated if not too tired. Maybe not that position again, though he does like to be held down.

“Maybe I’m done with you.”

The slight drop in his head and shoulders tells you all that you need to know about that.

“I think I’m lying about that. What are you willing to do for me, my sweet little tidbit?”

He hates when you call him things like that, but it is closer to the Alternian hate than it is the actual fury that he exhibits at other times.

“Just sit on my face. I’m fantasizing about drowning in green alien spunk.”

Flicking his nose you adjust yourself up on your knees to do just that.

-

The purple kingdom that you and Kankri have started to visit is different than the bright gold of the place that you woke up in. Everything here drips with decadent purples and dark shades that are closer to home. Spires claw up at the sky and the amount of stars is as dizzying as it is vast. It has given you this strange man and the time to get to know him.

The place of your waking was closer to watching Mituna’s eyes as the dawn started to crest on the hills -- all brights with a hint of safe night tucked in the center. It was a glittering golden and yellow place and it made your eyes water just to look at it. One of the pulsing round gates that took you away from the cave in Alternia where you had holed up to die led to what you now understand to be Prospit. A similar gate took you here.. There are aliens here and you love it. You love it because they are new, and they are different. It’s a break from the slog of terror and grief that was Alternia.

The first aliens are a little bit like poorly or pre-pupated wigglers. They are all chitin and bright eyes and intense gestures. They clack and click and you feel terribly nostalgic for the forest when some of the newly pupated wigglers would come into your territories.

The second type of aliens were different. Strangely luminous creatures who have the same psychic flavor as your beloved and the others in your cohort. Even back home, there were certain trolls that you had been drawn to over others. Some turned out to be valuable allies. They helped to free those that suffered that you and Kankri could not reach. Others turned out to be enemies identified early enough that they did not topple the fledgling birth of your movement. From the time that you were a wiggler you have always had a sense of the core of others. To find out that it extends to aliens as well is purrturbing as much as it is of interest.

The one wearing tyrian throat coverings and working on some sort of engineering project had been your first long conversation with someone who pinged that set of senses and who was not a troll.  
Immediately you had liked Roxy. She reminded you initially of Darkleer. Full of an understanding of what the behind of things might look like.

Unlike your enemy-turned-ally, she was not removed from the world around her. Instead her strangely flat teeth were flashing in constant smiles, her hands landed as often on your hands as they did on other surfaces. She showed you things that she was working on, between glasses of adrenaline-sweet smelling concoctions.

It was in a drink-fueled ramble that Roxy explained something about games. One game in particular. About designations and aspects. None of it made a great deal of sense but you listened attentively nonetheless. From this you learned that your aspect is Heart. You could not quite control yourself enough not to giggle at the implication. It made a certain sort of sense to you though. Everything large that you did in your life had been guided by your feelings and how you felt about your cohort. Everything that you had done in your life you did foremost for them and then bringing your own happiness into the mix.

This then led to the introduction of Roxy and your Kankri. If she could tell something so crucial to your personality perhaps she could give you insight to how your messiah might be explained.

A long and even more hilarious conversation later, Roxy pronounced Kankri ‘most definitely for sure a Blood player, I think. I would have to ask my babe to check and see.”

What followed was a delightful conversation with a shimmery-flickery purrbeast/troll/human. What Davepeta was exactly had never been explained to you, but the being had great insight into aspects and what they meant. They confirmed Roxy’s declaration of Heart as your aspect and seconded Blood for your beloved. Diverting as the whole thing proved, you took it and added it to the many other descriptors about you and forgot about it entirely.

-

You made your new friend practicing strife-forms in the strange little lawn-rings at the outer-rims of the spired dwellings.

He was a particularly athletic specimen, shirt fitted tight over shoulders that look like they could carry many burdens. Perhaps they had - you are still not yet deeply acquainted enough to know. These things were becoming clear to you though - you want to slowly take this man apart. Peel his layers down and stoke all of the good things that were tucked between his eye-shields and the core of him.

There is a slight dip at his collar where you can see his throat. Signless would never admit out loud that he considered such a display of a delicate area lewd. It intrigues you to no-end and you have no problems sharing that fact. Humans are brash about showing their weakness. You can see at least two points where arteries run close to the surface. Knowing your beloved, that delicacy will fascinate him even as it pulls him ever-closer. To you it is the sort of throat that begs to be snapped at. The tendons stand taut just beneath his paper-thin skin and all of the supporting muscle promises you that he can take it.

How the pair of you had come to this was as strange as he is. It is odd enough to see his blunted fingers and toes, to watch his lip curl up in what is a very Alternian sneer only to miss the fangs that he should be flashing at you. The trajectory of your courtship even followed channels that you found familiar.

He shadowed you in the small-dwellings of the ‘suburbs’ of Derse for a stretch of nights. Being able to walk freely without fear of being recognized by your horns or the brands that no longer sit visible on the tops of your hands, you enjoyed the freedom of movement you lacked for sweeps.

You delighted in stretching, playing, running and climbing. There were trees to sit in, terraces to investigate, carapaces to speak with. With all of the joy-abundant around you, it might have been easy at one time in your life to fall into it and allow it fill you to the brim. Instead, vigilance replaced joy. It had served you better than wonder and served you doubly as often.

Just that vigilance alerted you to the eyes on you that did not belong to the dark-shelled dersites. The alien that paced you moved like the subjugglators at home. All whisper-feet and peering eyes.

Unlike the subjugglators he had watched until you forced his hand. No mind-blindness came in its wake even though you half-expected it. The strife that the pair of you fell into was more rightfully called a dance. He stepped into your space with the boldness of a highblood - throwing hands and eventually sword-kind weapons at you. The introduction of the second element did not alarm you, instead it proved exhilarating.

You’d pulled your iron-tips out as a gesture of returned respect. You had melted the cuffs from Kankri’s execution down - having pilfered them during one of your few unsuccessful escape attempts. The successful raid had also afforded you the sight of his body rotted to the point of falling off of its post. One of his elbows hung by a solitary tendon, the rest of the corpse dropped lower. Some dawns you could still feel the cloying smell of rotting flesh in your mouth and see the fungus sprouting out of his eye-sockets.

With that burned into your mind, you forged weapons that could spread the pain to others. Even though his teachings were burned into the lines of your thoratic struts and in your thoughts, the lesser parts of you yearned for a revenge cycle that would shake the world. It seemed only fair being that yours had been taken apart to its foundations. In the end though, you simply kept the weapons for hunting and defense, a last touch between the pair of you.

In this quiet kingdom such weapons held no place. Yet, the sword Bro had dueled with struck you as similar. A weapon wielded out of necessity and long practice. It was play more than it was combat. You were not inclined to go for the kill and he did not seem to seek to do you harm. Instead, you could sense the pulse-beat of another being like you. Someone restless, someone full of vitality and the understanding of others. Perhaps he was another person touched by ‘the game’ as Roxy liked to call it, with air-gestures attached to it. Maybe he was simply another soldier. That had been her lot before Kankri had found her.

He disappeared after she cut his weapon in half, mumbling something half-heard before flash-stepping away.

This in turn prompted a trip to Roxy’s tower. Speaking with your friend revealed a few things. The man was called ‘Dirk’ but preferred ‘Bro’. He was a militaristic loner who stayed in the high towers away from the other humans and kept the company of a puppet. Roxy did not seem overly impressed with the puppet and complicatedly fond of the male-human. He was a ‘Prince of Heart’.

Your second meeting came on a rooftop. You'd spent some of your nights up and wandering, getting a sense of the breadth and scope of Derse. There was a monumental chain in the distance and you had a furious itch to see what would happen if you climbed it. In making your way toward it you saw Bro’s hat and the points of his eye-shields and knew what needed doing.

“You should come and visit with Kankri and I sometime. Instead of hanging out with that.” The puppet sitting at Bro’s side made you uncomfortable and angry. Nothing inert ought to have a presence.

Bro twitched a shoulder, reminding you of the burdenbeasts from home carrying carts and moving their skin to deter pests. When he did speak it was in a drawl that was difficult to parse even with the understanding granted by passing through the gates.

“Y’see though lil’ Cal is probably the illest thing you’ve ever met? Ain’t really got the need to be around others. He is the apex of accompaniment.”

The unsaid weighed down the levity of his tone and made it fall flat and false. Walking barefoot along the brick-facing of the tower they both occupied, you shook her head.

“I have a sixth-sense for when trolls-er... when I am being lied to. Gotta say that sounds like a big steamy pile of hoofbeast-excrement.”

“Hell no. I mean every word on this subject. Could wax poetic for years about the virtues of my main stuffed man.”

Flash-stepping to one side you kicked the thing off of the roof, watching its long arms stretch uselessly to each side with the breeze passing by it and half expecting it to come back up at you. Bro did turn his face to you, affect blank and the joviality stripped from his tone.

“He never leaves. You realize that right? Doesn’t matter what you do. Where you go. How careful you plan. He’s always there in the end. Sort of one of the constants of the universe. Cal is always there.” The tendons of his hands stood in sharp relief under his skin, half poised to leap off of the tower and after the doll. It is nothing like the relief that you feel being rid of the thing. 

“But I don’t need to sleep as I have come to a place between waking and sleeping. And I have excellent claws to shred with.” You grinned, showing him all of your teeth and purring in something close to a pitch solicitation. “Not only that but I mislike things that pretend to be other things they are not. If that thing is always there when you return, let us be the place that you go to.”

Bro stood without a word, looking down briefly after the stuffed plaything. Proceeding then to jam his hands into his pockets, he followed without resistance.

*

After your initial meeting you learned a few things about Bro.

He sasses. Somehow much worse than Kankri but for different reasons. Where Kankri keeps talking because it physically pains him not to, Bro talks to cover fear and feelings. Any feelings really - good or bad. As you slowly got to know one another in play-strife, in walks, and in weapon-making together, you began to wonder if Princes destroy their own hearts as part of their aspect. Roxy seemed to think their powers destroyed that of others, but you are not anywhere near sure. Every part of him that you interacted with served as a front- as empty as the plastic eyes of that puppet.

Bro is adept with metals, and invaluable in maintaining your claws. In turn you showed him tracking and other tricks that had helped you stay alive on Alternia. In teaching you discovered a delightful secret. Under direction, when he was giving you his attention and his compliance willingly, you start to see hints of the man that interests you. For a soldier - and you made no mistake of the fact that he was one - it was the gentlest that he got. The simple act of giving an order that he was interested in following gave the space between you a comfort that was not otherwise present.

You never would have been described as afraid take control of those that needed direction. Many times in your life you had been called upon to help shape the safety and emotions of those around you. Arranging quadrants was not a light matter. It could mean the difference between harmony and murder. The old itch to meddle and shape flared along the whole of her with Bro. In bringing individuals around him that would compliment him and shore him, he would be happier. If one of those beings happened to be you then really you were the winner.

The first time you told him to do something, it felt like you both were standing on a scale. He stared at you, just a hint of orange visible through his eye-shields. Everything about his posture read lowblood pride and derision. Instead, he stepped into your space and jutted his chin up so he could look at you properly.

“You asking or telling?”

“I’m telling.”

You knew the scale tipped in your favor when he smiled just a tiny bit. Not a gesture of his mouth, but it was a gathering of the muscles around his cheeks. You had studied human amusement in your times with Roxy and now understood what to watch for. Coupled with a hint of pink spreading along his throat and cheeks you had a feeling you might have bagged your prey.

“Well then, Miss Kitty.”

It was an acquiescence on his part, to do something little that you had told him to. It was a pale demand -- the two of you had been sparring and you managed to slice one of his arms. The shock of Kankri’s red against the white cloth and warm rusts of his skin had disturbed you to the point of halting combat.

He wanted to work through it, you wanted him to go and get it seen to. Roxy’s friend Jane, an older human with a cloud of beautiful white curls and dancing eyes proved very handy at healing. The walk to her tower would take less than five minutes. Instead, your obstinate partner wanted to change sides and let his blood dribble and gather in the cobblestones. The order was simple.

‘Get changed and get that wrapped then we can get on with it.’

He was willing to listen. Not only listen to you, but to let your will supersede his own.

You got a feeling from the flush that there was more to this than you understood. Careful application of claws would be in order.

-

“He’s particularly talented at fetch-and-carry you see.”

A snort comes from Bro’s direction and you deftly ignore it, grinning at Kankri.

“That I can.”

The human standing in the doorway was not one of the ones that Kankri has made the acquaintance of. It is more than time that this is remedied. Kankri and you share everything - cohort, secrets and possessions. There are subjects and trolls that sometimes tend toward one side or the other of your clade, but that is just the way of things.

“If you two are done mumbling to one-another, I can serve this for you. Or I mean... if you just want to continue I’ll stand here and pose.”

The bored cadence of his tone argues for such reprimand. The tea-service carefully arranged on a tray sits still, the tiny twitches of his arm only visible at careful observation. Everything that he does you note with great care.

“Bring it in and sit down.”

Bro makes his way in and to your side. Bending down in an exaggerated gesture of respect he sets the tea at your side, folding down onto his knees with his back straight like a sword. He always tries to be so serious and you cannot abide it. Reaching around his waist you see him struggle not to laugh at your claws brushing his sides, staying still because that is where you have put him. For whatever reason, he has gifted you with his obedience. The conscious choice that he puts into it is the reason that you go along with it easily.

Kankri watches him from his side, comfortable on his section of the pile. It is a good mix of bricks, some boxing materials and cushions this evening. The hard to soft ratio is just the way you like it, but gentle enough that it might accommodate your human if he chooses to join you.

“The two of you are some of my absolute favorites in the world.”

It is Kankri’s turn to snort and you roll your eyes at him.

“You are. I know that I say that about all of the trolls that I love, but you two are extra-loved and I thought you ought to get introduced propurrly.”

Settled, Bro flicks his eyes over at the center of your universe.

“Hey.”

“Hey yourself.” Kankri bestirs himself to come over and sit across from Bro as an equal and you silently laud his observational skills.

“So uh... we going to get some freaky interspecies pail action going on here? Or did you want to introduce me to your?” Bro makes a little gesture at Kankri.

“My beloved. Our situation is a little atypical for trolls. Being that you don’t know much about trolls anyway, just understand that he’s very important to me.”

“Matespirit or moirail then?” Your little kitten surprises you always. Perhaps it what he does for fun, finding ways to put trolls off-balance.

“When did you take the time to learn those things?”

Shrugging a tiny bit he pours the tea for the pair of you, getting a cup and setting it in front of himself without going to sip at it. “I like to know what I’m getting into before I get into things.”

That was another thing that Roxy mentioned to you about him - he is very analytical. Some of that distance is what you are hoping to work on. It is well and good to have space to observe and analyze, but that position in turn lends itself to isolation. If one constantly scans the field, how might one eventually participate in its happenings.  You worry that he might feel as if he is not allowed to. 

“His title is Signless. You can call him Kankri if you like. He is a little bit of all of my quadrants. We vacillate all over the grid.” You are not ashamed but it still brings a hint of color to your cheeks. Certainly your human does not care, but old feelings linger despite your best efforts to quash them. The trolls back home were not as blasé about the state of your clade. 

“You don’t like tea. What do you like?”

Bro’s head twitches slightly to the left, presumably surprised. “I didn’t think that it mattered. It’s tea time so I brought tea.”

He refuses to put himself into situations. It is simultaneously alienating and sad. “It matters to me. What do you like to drink?”

“Big fan of Fanta actually. That said we’ve got a visible deficit of corner-stores to go and visit to procure some.”

You raise your gaze to him and put a little steel in your words. “We’ll be seeing to your needs as well. I’ll make sure there’s some of the... Fanta, for you next time.” Roxy has machines that are sort of miraculous and can summon just about anything that you want out of what appears to be thin air. 

You catch Kankri’s eyes and see that he has begun to understand what needs to happen next.

-

“I have been doing reading as well.” You stalk up to him, bouncing on your toes and trying to hide your excitement.

Coiled into one of the windows of his usual tower and tapping away at a husktop your human tilts his head your way. “Yeah?”

“Are you into BDSM?”

The startlement caused by your statement actually causes his eyebrows to crest the triangles of his shades. “What?”

“Did I say it wrong? I think those were the letters. It did not translate exactly into my language. The concepts were Bondage, Domination, Submission, and Maso-”

“Masochism.” He finishes the word for you, staring with visible puzzlement.

“Yes those.”

Sauntering over to him, you lean over and press a pale-kiss against his temple. It is a testament to his patience with you that his back only bunches slightly where you rest your hand on it. You have been very forward with him, entering his space wtihout explicit invitation and touching soft places. Regularly he allows you to rest a hand on his spine, proximal to his neck, or near his middle. You feel quite desired in that regard.

“Why did you go and research that?”

“I wanted to have language to share wtih you when we talked about this. Kankri too.”

He closes his husktop with deliberateness, the tension that you hate stringing all of his body into hard lines.

“Is that all right with you? Can he come and speak with us? As I’m sure you have been able to see, he and I are very much entwined when it comes to personal matters.”

“Yes.” It is a slow agreement, but the fact that you get one at all is enough for you.

“Good. I’ll send him a message then.” You step back, giving him some space to think. Space is one of his big needs, one of the things that you have puzzled out over your study of his habits.

When your lover joins you, Bro turns toward you both, pointedly remaining near the exit provided by the window.

“If you would like we can sit over here for this discussion, Bro.” Kankri settles himself behind you, dropping into one of the chairs of the room with ease. He is used to being one of the smallest trolls in any given situation and body-language can convey a great deal. 

“You can call me Dirk.”

Both of you hate his eye-shields, though you respect his reasons for wearing them. There was a similar tradition of goggles, helmets and other things that covered micro-expressions at home.

“Dirk, then. We’ll stay on this side so we’re not towering. It is only polite, yes?”

Dirk turns his glance to you and nods. “Suppose so. Now, what exactly is happening here?”

You take the lead because you were the first one that he willingly offered any sort of surrender to. “We have been watching you. And we would like to have a relationship with you. Different elements, but one that includes the pair of us. That said, both of us assume that you enjoy control. Is that accurate?”

Dirk’s face goes to the default stillness that tells you he is guarding. “I don’t, actually. Enjoy being controlled. Not even a little.”

You miss-stepped. “Ah. I perhaps misunderstood some things then. I have observed that you really enjoy being held down, and that you seem to have some pleasure in doing things when I ask.”

Dirk’s mouth twitches at the corner. “Surrender. Is the term you’re looking for. I like to fight against something worthy of me. Someone in this case.” You smile in answer to the compliment he offered. "And when they prove themselves worthy of obedience, I do not mind surrendering and serving." 

“But you do not enjoy having your control forcibly removed from you?” One of the reasons that you appreciate Kankri is his mind for minutia. While you understand emotions, he understands the subtleties with more grace than you could ever conjure.

“I do not. Do you?”

Your lover smiles and there is a hint of fang to it. “Not even a tiny bit, no.”

“Then it probably becomes obvious why I’m not lining up to have you jerk me around like a puppet.”

Something clicks for you.

“What we want from you Dirk... is what you have offered us and not much else. I like your body, I like to play with you. I like seeing what new directions I can get your hair to go.”

He snorts and you take it as leave to continue.

“Kankri likes you too. He likes spending time with you and would also like to get to know your body. If that is something that you are interested in?”

The look that passes between them is different. It is two soldiers sizing one-another up. It also is two of the dearest individuals in your life at the moment, save Rosa and Psii. You want to bring Dirk into your grid and keep him there.

“I’m willing to try anything once.” Dirk smirks at the two of you, all bravado.

-

The two of them have the kind of chemistry that makes for exquisite red porn. Kankri has a sense for when to be vulnerable, when to laugh, when to be still. Given the chance to be purely in the moment, Dirk remains guarded. He pulls himself up short whenever he starts to really be present in the moment - what it is that he’s afraid of not entirely clear to either of you. Though Kankri yields in all parts of their time together, Dirk still holds back. He is thorough as a lover, attending to Kankri’s pleasure until your beau taps out and wraps arms and legs around him to stop his relentlessness ministrations.

As with you, Dirk’s orgasm is quiet, all of his body a subtle tremor and then sweat-sheened from exertion. Wrapped under him and nosing along the line of Dirk’s throat, Kankri purrs at him quietly. The gentle sounds of Dirk’s stubble catching his skin fill the air between their breathing. “How are you doing?”

Dirk thunks his forehead against Kankri’s softly, eyes closed and pulse hammering along one of the veins laying against his temple. “Dunno. Think that’s my line for you.” It gladdens you to see him raise a hand up and cup one of Kankri's horns, brushing his thumb along its length and gently holding it. 

“Nope. I am the best conciliator in this galaxy and I will fight the troll that says they are better. In fact, two of three trolls polled will automatically come up with my name when asked, and the third one is probably an idiot.”

Chuckling to yourself, you agree with him.

“But seriously. Are you all right? You are rather skilled at pailing for an alien. Speaking of...”

To your human’s credit he pulls one out of his modus with a flourish, helping with the attending necessities with the same directed attention that he goes about everything with. That taken care of, Kankri returns to lounging, rounding out his body to give Dirk more breathing room. Your human finally lets himself settle, his spine softening as he fits himself against the soft parts of the mound of pillows the pair of them fell into. You know for a fact that Kankri is probably snuggled up along one of the buried boxes - he likes firm textures to contrast the give of bedding. 

“Yeah. I mean. It was fine. I liked it. You like it?” At the nod he gets, Dirk nods. “Then that’s it, isn’t it?”

“Is it?” Kankri’s voice is soft, and makes your neck prickle. It pulls to mind dawns spend curled together like grubs and hiding from the Condescension's forces. 

“I.... “ He rolls over on his back and throws an arm over his face, pulling his eye-coverings off and setting them along his forehead. “Paging Miss Kitty. You are required for post-coital snuggles on aisle three.”

Pushing up from your vantage point and making your way over to the pile, you drop down along Dirk’s side. Hidden from Kankri’s view, he slides a hand over and catches yours.

“I am fine.”

The both of you are prepared to accept that for now.

\--

 

 _“But your blade—it might be too sharp_  
_I'm like a rubber band until you pull too hard,_  
_Yeah, I may snap and I move fast_  
_But you won't see me fall apart”_

-Siatet, Dersite Emissary and post-game interrormediator


End file.
